


Miscellanies

by karuvapatta



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 14:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: A collection of short fics that were originally posted on my tumblr. Mostly Gabriel/Nathalie with the occasional Gabriel/Emilie/Nathalie.





	1. Nathalie Tries On A Fancy Dress

The lights were still on in Gabriel’s workshop. Nathalie allowed herself a moment to regain her composure before entering. Used as she was to working late hours, the Peacock Miraculous was not a good addition to her schedule. She tired much more easily nowadays. Still. She had a job to do.

“Sir? Is there anything else you require?”

“Nanph—” Gabriel couldn’t enunciate properly with several pins stuck in his mouth, but she assumed it was her name he was trying to say. Then he gave her a careful, measuring look, from the soles of her shoes to the top of her head. A strange spark gleamed in his eyes.

There was more, then. Nathalie walked further into the spacious room, taking in the dress being constructed on a mannequin. She assumed it to be a dress, anyway.

“Ah hmph—I have a favour to ask of you,” Gabriel said, removing the pins before either of them disappeared down his throat.

“Sir?”

Yet again, he considered her figure.

“Would you mind putting on this dress? It’s very much a work in progress, but I need to assess if this design is going somewhere.”

Nathalie stared at him flatly. “If you require a model, I could arrange for someone to come over.”

“At this hour?” Gabriel gestured to the dark windows. Then he looked at them properly, checked his watch, and sighed. “I didn’t realize how late it was. You’d probably prefer to go home?”

Instead of the truth, Nathalie asked: “How urgent is this project?”

“Quite urgent. Clara Nightingale commissioned this outfit for the Grammys, but it’s proving a bit more challenging than I anticipated.”

Despite all that, he seemed quite taken with his work. It was rare for him to construct the dresses himself, even though he had once admitted that this was the part he most enjoyed.

“Miss Nightingale and I have very different figures,” Nathalie said.

“Not as different as you’d think,” Gabriel said. “Please, Nathalie? Tomorrow you can take the afternoon off to make up for today, and it won’t take more than half an hour.”

Hardly the most outlandish thing he had ever asked of her. Besides, she was too tired to argue, and an afternoon off was tempting indeed.

“Very well. Sir.”

So there she was, Nathalie Sancoeur, blinking under the harsh lights of an Agreste mansion bathroom, trying to work out how to put the damn thing on. It slipped like silk over her naked skin, showing more of her back than she was comfortable with and pooling around her feet. She had to hold up the fabric with both hands to keep it where it should be and then pick her way very carefully so as not to avoid embarrassing herself.

Gabriel gestured to a podium and Nathalie climbed it with a weary sigh. Then she had to supress a shiver when she felt his hands on her, clasping hidden clasps and arranging the layers of fabric around her body. His touch was one hundred percent professional, deft fingers working close to her skin but never quite touching it. Satisfied, he stepped away.

“What do you think?” he asked.

There were several full-length mirrors. Nathalie turned around slowly, fixing her eyes on her reflection.

“It’s,” she paused. “Absurdly youthful, sir.”

“Very much not your style, I agree,” Gabriel said.

She was beginning to see the idea behind the design. There was quite a lot going on with the lower part of the dress, so that even when she finished turning, the folds of fabric were still in motion. The colours, too, were vibrant and shimmering, changing before her very eyes. Somehow it all came together, creating an impression of an outfit that was always in motion. Vibrant, cheerful, energetic – very much like the singer herself.

Not at all like Nathalie, of course.

“Can you walk around, please?”

Gabriel held up his hand to support her when she took a step down. Nathalie tried not to lean too heavily into his hold.

She had to walk carefully so as not to tangle the excess of fabric between her legs. Not a model’s walk, but then again, none of this had been in her job description.

“Thank you,” Gabriel nodded. “Can you dance in it?”

“I don’t dance, sir,” Nathalie told him flatly.

His eyes travelled upwards, focusing on her face for the first time. She felt naked under his gaze, her neck, shoulders, and collarbones mostly exposed, her arms entirely bare. Even _breathing_ made the dress rustle and shimmer, and it was pinned quite tightly around her chest so that she had to keep her breaths shallow.

“Ah,” Gabriel regarded her with an uneasy expression, an odd flush colouring his cheeks. His hair was unruly and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, so she supposed they were both grossly underdressed by their own standards. “I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“If I suspected you were, I would already be midway through filing a lawsuit,” Nathalie said.

Gabriel’s lip twitched. Then, because nothing made sense tonight, he held out his hand.

“Will you indulge me just a moment longer? Miss Nightingale was very specific about the dancing.”

Nathalie stared at his outstretched palm with what had to be a blank expression. She was a seasoned professional and her face seldom betrayed her, but tonight was shaping up to be a true test of her self-control.

Her hand fit easily into Gabriel’s light grip. She stood straight-backed and held his gaze when he stepped closer, his other palm sliding warmly around her waist and then upwards, settling on the bare skin of her back. It sent a pleasant shiver down Nathalie’s spine. Instead of pondering that strange fact, Nathalie put her own free hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Keep your elbow higher—yes, like that—and arch back—perfect—are you ready?”

She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t _dance_.

Closer now, Gabriel shifted his weight and gently pushed her backwards, until Nathalie took the hint and then took a step to accommodate him. She couldn’t even see where she was going. Gabriel did, however, counting to four under his breath and marking out the corners of an invisible square. All that she had to do was anticipate his movements and follow his lead, and _that_ – that was something Nathalie knew.

He glided across the floor and somehow carried her with him. Nathalie couldn’t help glancing at her feet from time to time, especially once the bastard made her _twirl_.

“This seems unnecessary,” she said, but couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face. The dress fanned our around her and then kept moving when she stopped, a myriad pinpricks of light reflecting of the shimmering fabric.

She caught Gabriel’s hand much more readily this time around and shifted closer. This was a lot easier than she anticipated—

Then she tripped.

It was the damn dress tangling between her legs. A piece of fabric got caught beneath her heel and then ripped, loudly, as Nathalie lost her balance and toppled forwards, straight into Gabriel’s arms.

He softened her fall, but she was still face-first in her boss’s chest, her glasses askew and her breathing unsteady.

“Are you all right?”

She could feel the rumble of his voice as well as hear it. An interesting sensation.

Nathalie peeled herself away and took a hasty step back, fixing the glasses as she did so. Once she straightened, she was able to look him in the eye, if only barely.

“Very well, sir. Are you?” she examined the back of the dress and frowned. “I apologize—”

“Don’t. It was entirely my fault.”

Gabriel was staring at her with an odd, troubled expression. Then he turned abruptly and beckoned her to follow.

“I’ll help you get out of it,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this anyway.”

Again, Nathalie stepped onto the platform. She held the fabric tightly around herself as he circled her, unpinning and unfastening bits of material so that she could undress herself without damaging the outfit further. The pressure around her chest eased and she took a deeper breath, only to feel him jerk back when her skin brushed his fingers.

Nathalie didn’t breathe much afterwards.

Back in the bathroom, safe and alone, she uncurled her hands and let the dress slide down her body. It fell in a shimmering pile around her feet. She picked it up right after and then put on her own clothes. Sensible, elegant clothes – if only the blazer hadn’t electrified her hair once she pulled it over her head, and if only she could stop her face from flushing, everything would be perfectly normal.

Gabriel accepted the dress back with a blank expression, and then didn’t look at her again once they bid each other good night.

Yes. Normal.


	2. Nathalie Loses Her Memories

She felt cold metal beneath the palm of her hand. Confused, she raised her head and examined her surroundings: a vast, empty room. Dark, save for the light falling through the ornate window. And butterflies, hundreds of them, tiny white specks fluttering around her.

Nathalie managed to push herself into a seating position. What was this place? A horrible suspicion crept up her spine – but no, it couldn’t be. Kidnapping people didn’t fit into his modus operandi.

“Ah,” Hawk Moth said. “You’re awake.”

He was a black shadow against the harsh light, his gaze focused somewhere on the landscape of the city. Then, against all odds, he asked: “How are you feeling?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” Nathalie asked, her voice level despite the sudden fear gripping her throat.

Hawk Moth sighed. “You were always hard to read, Nathalie.”

Nathalie tensed.

“How do you know my name?”

She had never made a habit of carrying weapons on her person, not even pepper spray. Now she was beginning to regret it. Hawk Moth had her back to her, his hands folded on the cane in front of him. If she was quick—

But she wasn’t. He turned around, staring. Most of his face was covered with a gleaming silver mask, so tight it clung to him like second skin. She could see the blue of his eyes and the hard line of his mouth. Nowhere near enough to be able to identify him.

“This is only temporary, I assure you,” he said. “You were hit by one of my villains. Regrettable, but these things happen. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

His stiff, apologetic tone made no sense to her. But—yes, she did remember the latest akuma. And she remembered—

“Adrien,” Nathalie said in a hollow voice. “It was about to attack Adrien. _Where is he?_ ”

“He’s fine,” Hawk Moth said, with such absolute conviction that Nathalie began to suspect it wasn’t her he was trying to reassure. “As for our intrepid heroes—ah!” A glowing butterfly-shaped visor appeared in front of his face. “Révélatrice! Ladybug and Chat Noir are about to fall into your trap. Soon, their secrets will be yours to uncover!”

The maniacal glee in his voice chased a shiver down Nathalie’s spine. She took one, two steps back.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Hawk Moth turned slightly, showing her his sharp profile. The visor disappeared from his face.

“There are some secrets I’d rather you kept to yourself,” he said. “Unfortunately, my spell worked a little too well.”

“I see,” said Nathalie, who didn’t.

She observed him warily as his villain attempted to extract the identity of Paris’s masked heroes. Judging by Hawk Moth’s mounting anticipation, Révélatrice was doing quite well. Any moment now, Ladybug and Chat Noir would be exposed—no, she couldn’t let that happen.

He wasn’t paying attention. Good. She would need all the help she could get.

Nathalie had a few self-defence classes under her belt, but he was taller than her, broader across the shoulders, and armed; but she wasn’t thinking straight. She could see Adrien jumping off a building, only to be caught by Ladybug, transformed into a golden statue by a vengeful supervillain, attacked, targeted, and injured, more times than she cared to count—so, with strength she wasn’t sure she possessed, Nathalie kicked the back of Hawk Moth’s knees and then grabbed him by throat. And squeezed.

“What—”

“Stop it,” Nathalie said coldly.

Hawk Moth’s neck was covered with stiff fabric. She squeezed harder, digging her forearm into his windpipe, and held tight when he tried to shake her off.

“What the hell, Nathalie!” Hawk Moth managed.

He dug his elbow into her stomach, but Nathalie grit her teeth and didn’t let go.

The cane. He still had his cane. She needed to get it off him—

“Call away the akuma,” she said. “Stop—”

His gloved hand grabbed her forearm, but the lack of oxygen must have been getting to him. He staggered a few steps, dragging Nathalie along. Soon he would lose consciousness—and then Adrien would be safe—

It was going too smoothly, Nathalie thought numbly. Sure enough, he next elbowed her in a stomach with a force she was unable to ignore. Nathalie folded nearly in half, her grip on his throat loosening, which was all it took for him to spin around and point his cane at her chest.

“A commendable effort,” Hawk Moth coughed. With his free hand he fiddled with the collar of his shirt and the tight mask, irritated beyond belief when it wouldn’t come off.

“Stop,” Nathalie said, straightening to her full height. As if she had any advantage to speak of, as if the madman would listen to her. “You cannot win, you must have realized this by now.”

Hawk Moth paused and regarded her with an odd expression.

“It’s good to know you have so much faith in me,” he said drily.

“Why would I want to have faith in you?” Nathalie scoffed. “You repeatedly put Adrien in danger. You have no regard for anyone but your own selfish desires.”

“And yet you are always on my side,” Hawk Moth interrupted her. Somewhere in Paris, the fight must have taken a favourable turn, because his frown deepened, his teeth gritting audibly together. “Soon enough you will remember, Nathalie. You are about to remember me.”

She was opening her mouth to protest when bright pink light washed over her. Light, or perhaps a cloud of magical ladybugs – Nathalie’s head swam and for a moment, she couldn’t tell what she saw or where she was.

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Um.” She looked at up at Hawk Moth’s face, looming somewhere above her. “Sir?”

He raised a gloved hand to his throat and breathed a little easier. The restorative magic must have healed him as well.

“I envisioned this a little differently,” he said.

“Sir,” Nathalie said, horrified. “I’m sorry—”

“Nooroo, wings down,” Gabriel said. Then he walked towards Nathalie and helped her to his feet, his strong, warm hang curling around her elbow. “I can’t imagine what you were trying to achieve, going after a Miraculous wielder,” he said, even though he must have known Nathalie hadn’t really been thinking when she attacked him.

Nathalie stared at him, anger still fresh in her memory. Except now she knew why he did what he did; now she remembered.

“I think I prefer it when you’re on my side,” Gabriel said quietly, studying her expression.

After a moment of silence, Nathalie replied: “I am.”

_It will all be worth it,_ she said to herself. _One day. It has to be_.


	3. The Angsty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** major character death

“It’s not going to work,” Adrien said.

He was staring, wide-eyed, at Emilie’s unconscious body. Nathalie couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was feeling but she had a hand on his shoulder nonetheless, offering an illusion of support. He didn’t acknowledge her in any way.

Gabriel smiled at them. Nathalie wished he hadn’t.

“It is,” he said. “Everything is going to be fine, Adrien. Everything, back the way it was.”

The Kwamis of Creation and Destruction were flying around in a frenzy but they couldn’t protest. They belonged to Gabriel now, and he had silenced them somehow. Means to an end, the lot of them; but, finally, an end.

Adrien’s voice trembled. “The Guardian said there will be a price to pay—”

“I don’t care.”

But Nathalie could see where this was going. Her grip on Adrien’s shoulder tightened.

“Someone else is going to die instead,” Adrien said. “That’s murder, Dad. It’s not what Mum would have wanted.”

His voice broke as soon as he mentioned his mother. Emilie looked so peaceful, trapped in her endless sleep, blissfully unaware of what was going on around her. Adrien would have gone to her, but he seemed rooted in place.

“You don’t know that,” Gabriel said. “The combined power of the major Miraculouses knows no bounds. They fed you nonsense about their limitations so that you wouldn’t abuse it.”

Adrien laughed, a broken, bitter sound. “Go ahead, then. It’s your wish, so you’ll be fine. It’s just somebody else’s life you are gambling with, right?”

Gabriel’s back stiffened.

“Who is it going to be?” Adrien was shouting now. “Me? Nathalie? Half of Paris?”

“Adrien, _no_ ,” Nathalie said, her throat dry. “Your father would never hurt you. You know he wouldn’t.”

The boy turned towards her slowly.

“I can’t believe you’re still defending him,” he said. “You—this entire time, you’ve been enabling him—”

“It’s—” _It was for you, for Emilie, for Gabriel;_ no, Nathalie was out of excuses. Let Adrien hate her for her cowardice. She deserved as much.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply. Adrien’s accusatory glare did not soften, not even when she embraced him: stiffly, awkwardly. So many times she had longed to do just that, and thought that – maybe, perhaps – he also wanted her to. But she was a stranger to him and she would never get the chance to be anything more.

Gabriel fell to his knees when she approached him. It was slow but inevitable, as if his body was finally giving up, bit by bit. This was to be his triumph, Nathalie thought bitterly. Now, she realized, he would stay here forever if need be, unmoving and uncaring.

Or maybe he would surprise her. Maybe he would learn to live with himself afterwards.

“Nathalie.”

She caught his shoulders, his face. His blank gaze didn’t quite meet hers.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered. “What if Adrien is right? What if I kill him?”

“You won’t,” Nathalie said. “I wouldn’t let you.”

He was so lost; she had never seen him in such a state. He clung to her and she let him. This was what Nathalie did best, wasn’t it? Prop him up even as he was falling apart.

“I don’t know what to do,” Gabriel murmured into the skin of her neck. “Tell me what to do. Nathalie, please—”

She had fantasized about this, too. It was so rare that he looked at her and actually _saw_ her; rarer still that he would admit weakness or realize just how much he needed her. But she prided herself on this, hadn’t she? Perfect, invisible Nathalie.

“Gabriel.”

She had never called him by his first name. Would he even notice that? And she liked his name, she liked the melody of it, she liked the way it rolled of her tongue, the way it ended in a whisper. She would like to say it more, every day for the rest of her life if she only could.

“Make a wish,” she said. “Bring Emilie back.”

Gabriel shook his head, his hands twining around Nathalie’s waist in a painful, desperate grip.

“I can’t. You know I can’t. The price—”

“I’ll pay it,” Nathalie said calmly. “I’m fine with paying it. If a life has to be traded, let it be my life.”

It was so smooth, so easy. A perfect lie—and he didn’t even see it as such. No, Gabriel very slowly raised his head, a new fire gleaming in his grey blue eyes.

“You would do this?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “You would do this for me?”

Just like that. Smooth, easy. Oh, she had never hated him more than she did in that moment. It wasn’t even a question for him, was it? Nathalie didn’t matter; Emilie did.

“Yes,” she said.

“Nathalie—I can’t do this to you, you know I can’t—”

So he would make her insist. How many times did he expect her to say it? Was she supposed to walk and lay her head on the chopping block, smiling all the while, assuring him that it was fine, it was all fine, his guilt was misplaced and his sins were absolved, he was forgiven because _Nathalie_ was fine with it?

“It’s okay,” she said numbly. “It’s fine, Gabriel. It’s what I want.”

This was the only way to make him happy. And this— _this_ was what she wanted.

It was Nathalie’s last conscious thought.


	4. The Agrestes Go On Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel/Emilie/Nathalie in this chapter! Also: don't ask me when this happens in regards to everything else. I just don't know.

It was the second or third Margarita of the evening, but who would keep track of that? Certainly not Emilie. She stretched out her long, shapely legs in front of her and stirred the drink with a straw, before brining the salt-covered rim of the glass to her painted lips.

“No, I understand _why_ he left,” she said. “I understand it’s important. It’s just, a bloody long way to travel for him to do what he might as well be doing back at home, wouldn’t you say?”

Nathalie offered no reply. She stood there, still as a statute, dressed in a suit despite the hot, humid air that not even the sea breeze could stir for very long. Her only concession to the climate was the colour palette – she swapped black and red for grey and light blue.

Emilie took a long sip of her drink. Then she pushed away the half-empty glass and folded her bare arms on the table, settling her chin down on her hands.

“I really thought things would be different,” she said miserably. “He was so excited for the vacation…”

Gabriel Agreste’s voice drifted from the balcony. He was pacing the length of it, a phone glued to his ear, pausing occasionally to check something with the notes Nathalie had prepared for him. If he glanced in their direction, he might see the expression on his wife’s face; but he didn’t.

“Go ahead, Nathalie,” Emilie said. “It’s your cue to start making excuses on his behalf.”

“Ma’am – this shouldn’t take more than half an hour, and it’s vitally important that the investors—”

“Ah, there it goes,” Emilie’s eyes closed, a humourless smile stretching her lips. “Now tell me that we were only able to come here because of how much time he’s working.”

A long silence followed.

Out in the garden, crickets were chirping. The breeze rustled the palm trees, and waves crept onto the sand only to recede afterwards, accompanied by the rhythmic, soothing sound. In the other part of the hotel, people were laughing and dancing along to live music, but they were so far away as to belong to a whole different universe.

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” Nathalie asked.

“Yeah. Another one of these.” Emilie finished her Margarita and set down the empty glass with too much force.

“Ma’am—I will if you want me to, but perhaps you have had enough—”

“Yes! Thank you! Exactly. I have had _enough_.” She turned around on the bar stool, a predatory gleam in her bright green eyes. “But don’t worry, I will have my revenge.”

Aware that she was being studied, Nathalie maintained her perfect posture and blank expression.

“And how so, ma’am?” she asked.

“Why, I’ve devised the perfect plan to keep Gabriel from working,” Emilie said. “I’m going to seduce his personal assistant.”

Nathalie blinked.

“You don’t believe me,” Emilie said. “But it’s true.”

She hummed to herself and reached for her glass, only to realize she had already emptied it. That did not dampen her newfound spirits, however. If anything, it gave her the push she needed to stand up, one hand rested on the countertop, the other on the provocative jut of her hip.

“Well, Nathalie?” she tilted her head and blinked, her red lips glistening enticingly.

“Well _what,_ ma’am?”

Nathalie was tired. She was so tired. She should never have agreed to accompany the Agrestes on their trip, no matter how “essential” her assistance might have been. Her presence was only driving the wedge further into their fragile, volatile marriage.

Undaunted, Emilie moved closer, swaying to the faraway music. She looked positively angelic in the gauzy white dress and with her golden hair cascading down her shoulders. The effect was somewhat ruined by the pinch of her eyebrows as she drunkenly navigated the slippery floor in her ridiculous heels.

“I’m usually better at this,” she giggled.

Nathalie didn’t smile, or fluster, or react in any way. That made Emilie pause. Then, gradually, she dropped her act even as the two women stood face to face, entwining her fingers together instead of carding them through Nathalie’s short hair like she had obviously been planning to.

“You’re not into me at all,” she said, resigned.

“I’m into paying my mortgage,” Nathalie said. “I’m into keeping my job. And I do not appreciate you using me to annoy your husband, ma’am.”

Emilie’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh, Nathalie—I’m sorry, I truly am. It was just—a stupid joke. That’s all.”

Out on the balcony, Gabriel was growing increasingly more agitated. He never once glanced in their direction. He couldn’t see Emilie’s half-turned face, the sorrow in her eyes, the blatantly fake smile as she watched him from the other side of the glass.

“You probably don’t think very highly of me,” she whispered. “But I’m happy for him, I really am. Hell, when he comes back I might even act like it. But for now…”

Despite her reputation, Nathalie wasn’t entirely heartless. And, well – she came here to help out the Agrestes, didn’t she? It wasn’t _her_ fault Gabriel was so blinded by success he could not even see the cracks in his own marriage. Or that Emilie only ever dropped her charming persona when she was drunk and alone, with no one but Nathalie for company.

“I’m going to be very upset if he fires me for this,” Nathalie said.

Gabriel was putting down his phone. Good. He then began to file through the papers, searching for some document or other. By the looks of it, he had completely messed up Nathalie’s system. No wonder the relevant paper was impossible to find.

Emilie grinned. “Oh, he won’t. I promise.”

And then there was nothing but _her_ , the subtle tang of her perfume, the sticky press of her lipstick followed by the warm, insistent heat of her mouth. Her seductive act had been a joke, Nathalie could see it now, but this—this wasn’t. Emilie was an amazing kisser, and the longer it went on, the harder it was to remember why she even hesitated in the first place.

So she might get fired; big deal. Nathalie wound her fingers in the soft, curly strands of Emilie’s hair and gave a startled gasp when Emilie’s hands encircled her waist, pulling her closer. Her skin was overly warm, a fine sheen of sweat covering it. Even the nights here were unbearably hot.

Nathalie hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes; she opened them now, and caught Gabriel Agreste staring at the two of them.

Emilie felt her stiffen. She drew back, the lipstick smeared on her face, a flush high in her cheeks, and looked at her husband. Then, at the sight of his expression, she erupted into giggles, burying her face in Nathalie’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “You don’t have a camera, do you?”

Her mind was definitely gone by this point, because Nathalie couldn’t help but laugh along. Gabriel’s face really was a picture, his mouth gaping open, important papers scattering from his limp hand. _If_ she got fired, at least she would have this image to remember him by.

“Hello, darling!” Emilie said cheerfully once Gabriel made his way over. “I was bored and lonely, and you had _,_ personally, asked Nathalie to keep me company. So she did.”

How angry was he? It was impossible to judge. Shock was still a prevalent emotion, but there was something else there – his pupils widened and an odd tension gripped his muscles, as if he was poised to fight. Nathalie couldn’t help but notice that he had blocked off her only escape route – there was nothing behind her but the window, the long drop to the beach below, and the ocean surrounding them.

Still – Emilie didn’t move. She remained where she was, in Nathalie’s arms, apparently content to surrender herself to the other woman’s embrace. Perhaps it was madness but Nathalie felt her hold tighten, half-possessive and half-protective. It wasn’t her place to _protect_ Emilie, of course it wasn’t. And yet, somehow, it was impossible to let go.

Gabriel stepped closer. Nathalie didn’t back down, not even when she had to crane her head to look at him. She had willingly put herself in this position; she would not cower now—

He was looking at _her_. He was still looking at her, even when he bent down to kiss Emilie himself, even when his hands joined Nathalie in the grip around Emilie’s waist, the touch of his skin raising goose bumps along Nathalie’s forearms.

Nathalie’s throat went completely dry. She heard Emilie’s content hum, and Gabriel’s hoarse whisper: “This is the sort of thing we should discuss beforehand.”

“You were busy, dear,” Emilie said sweetly, with just a hint of steel in her voice. “You usually are.”

They were kissing again, Emilie interrupting his excuses before he could voice them. Nathalie would have moved – she _should have_ , she had to, this was getting out of hand – but Gabriel raised his hand and placed it on the window pane by her head, effectively trapping her in this very particular kind of hell.

When they paused, his grey-blue eyes were on Nathalie again. Emilie half-turned between them, her smile bright, dangerous, or maybe both.

“Do you want me to leave you two alone?” Gabriel asked.

“What?” Nathalie said unintelligently.

It was the heat that got to her. Had to be. Gabriel Agreste wasn’t cupping her cheek; Emilie Agreste wasn’t pressed to her side, with her mouth close to Nathalie’s exposed neck.

“Nathalie?” she asked. “Is this okay?”

She didn’t know what it was they were asking of her, except that she very badly wanted to give it to them. Anything to keep this fantasy going.

“Sir—”

His mouth was on hers, soft at first, then more insistent. He didn’t kiss like Emilie; no, he was a man of purpose, his fingers already working on the buttons of Nathalie’s blouse. The possessive slide of his hand around her waist was a novel experience, as was the tightened grip when she called him “Sir” again.

Interesting.

Before either could change their minds, Nathalie took their hands and squeezed, breathless, delighted.

“Yes,” she said. “More than okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read this then I'd love to know what you thought! :)


End file.
